


Count the Stars

by kyxshi



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell - Freeform, Gen, I'm serious y'all this is so platonic, Platonic!RoyEd, Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye - Freeform, Royai - Freeform, never have you seen something as platonic as this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7961986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyxshi/pseuds/kyxshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Creta and Aerugo form an alliance to wage war against Amestris. The escalating violence forces Ed to deal with the consequences of becoming a State Alchemist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dogs of the Military

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've pretty much ditched the main plot altogether--no nationwide transmutation circle, no homunculi and Scar hasn't been out killing State Alchemists.  
> I'd also like to give a big thank you to aheartmadefullmetal16 for coming up with the title. :)

 

 

Roy yawned as he walked through the halls of Central Command on his way to Führer Bradley’s office. It was rare that the Führer asked a junior officer to join one of his meetings. A month ago, he would have felt a tinge of excitement; the Führer inviting him to a meeting with the senior staff had to mean a promotion was on the horizon. However, today he didn’t particularly care about adding a thicker stripe to his uniform.

As he neared the Investigations Office, Roy kept his gaze pointedly ahead and tried not to think about the lieutenant colonel once in charge of that department. Someone stepped out of the office as he walked past the door and collided with him. Papers tumbled to the floor.

Sheska adjusted her glasses and gasped when she realized who she had bumped into.

“Colonel Mustang!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, sir! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said. He bent down to pick up the papers she dropped.

“Sir, please don’t worry about those, I can pick them up—“

“It’s all right. Here.”

The mousy office worker accepted the stack of papers and looked at him nervously.

“If you don’t mind me saying, Colonel,” she said, “you look exhausted. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Roy scowled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sheska bit her lip and averted her gaze. Fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, she said, “Well, it’s just…Lieutenant Colonel Hughes was a good friend of yours wasn’t he? He used to talk about you. And I heard him talking to you on the phone all the time. I was surprised you didn’t take any leave when…you know…”

“Aerugo and Creta declared war on us. I can’t afford to take time off.”

She nodded and said meekly, “Of course not, sir. But still, you have my condolences.”

Roy cringed inwardly; enough of Hughes’s subordinates had told him they were “sorry for his loss” in the month since Hughes died that he’d begun avoiding the Investigations Office whenever possible. Rather than express his annoyance to the young woman in front of him, Roy thanked her.

 _They don’t know what else to say to you, sir,_ Lieutenant Hawkeye told him after he’d complained to her.

“Now,” he said. “I have a meeting to get to.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Sheska said and jumped aside. “Sorry for keeping you, sir!”

As much as Sheska’s comment about how tired Roy looked irked him, she was right. Roy hadn’t slept well since he’d read Hughes’s name on the list of casualties from the South City train station bombing last month. He tossed and turned for hours. When Roy did manage to fall asleep, his dreams were full of screams, explosions and an oily black smoke that made his lips sticky. The last time he’d had nightmares with such vivid sensory details was in the few months after he’d returned home from Ishval. Now, however, the nightmares were punctuated with Elicia Hughes screaming for her father.

When Roy arrived at Führer Bradley’s office he paused before the closed mahogany door and tried to clear Hughes from his mind. He took a deep breath and straightened his jacket. He knocked.

Lieutenant General Storch, Führer Bradley’s adjutant, opened the door, revealing six men sitting around a long table with Bradley at the head. A map of Amestris and the surrounding countries sprawled across the middle of the table and green, yellow, blue, red and white flags sat in clusters on the western and southern areas of Amestris.

“Thank you for joining us, Colonel Mustang,” Bradley greeted. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, sir.” Roy took the only empty seat and sat next to Brigadier General Clemin. Clemin frowned and gave Roy a sideways glance but Roy ignored him. He looked at the epaulettes of the men sitting around him; a thick band of gold flanked by two thin gold stripes adorned each shoulder. Four of them also had one or two stars.

“Colonel, I’m sure you’ve been informed of the details of Creta’s attack on Wellesley yesterday,” Bradley said.

Roy’s mind had been so focused on Aerugo’s attack on South City that Bradley’s question confused him momentarily.

“I know the attack was alchemical in nature,” he said slowly. “And it wiped out most of the troops stationed there.”

“That is correct. Creta demonstrated that their alchemy has advanced further than we were previously aware.”

Roy thought he detected a touch of nervousness among the generals; for over a century, Amestris’s alchemical prowess had given the nation an advantage over its neighbors when it came to war. Only Basque Grand seemed unfazed by the leveled playing field.

“If Creta intends to use alchemy against us,” the Führer continued, “I feel it is necessary to deploy the State Alchemists.”

“Understandable, sir.”

“Colonel, I have a question for you,” Bradley said with a friendly smile. “In your opinion, will the Fullmetal Alchemist be useful to us in battle or will he be a hindrance?”

Roy hesitated, surprised. “What do you mean, sir?”

“From what I understand, you’ve threatened to report him for insubordination on a few occasions. Will he take orders?”

Edward usually disobeyed the rare orders Roy gave him. Lieutenant Hawkeye, however he listened to. In fact, Roy realized Ed wasn’t rude to any officers besides him. That brat.

“He’ll straighten up, I think, with the right motivation,” Roy answered.

The Führer smiled again. “That’s what I wanted to hear. The Fullmetal Alchemist will join you and the rest of the State Alchemists. Thank you, Colonel.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Roy said, “I don’t believe it’s advisable to put Elric on the battlefield.”

“Oh? And why is that? He’s a rather skilled alchemist and has plenty of hand-to-hand combat training, does he not?”

Roy swallowed. “He’s never killed before, sir, and I’m afraid he doesn’t have what it takes. Perhaps he’d be more useful in a lab.”

The Führer’s smile seemed etched onto his face. “No, Colonel, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure Edward Elric will be a real asset to us against Creta and Aerugo.”

“Forgive me, sir, but I have to dis—“

“I only had one question for you, Mustang, and you answered it,” Bradley interrupted. His smile shifted into a scowl and the look in his one eye was enough to silence Roy. “Now, I’ll ask you to refrain from giving your input unless I ask for it.”

“Yes, Führer. I apologize.”

Bradley’s smile did not return, but his expression softened considerably.

“Colonel Mustang, I want you to command the 11th Alchemical Battalion,” Bradley said. “Eight State Alchemists including Edward Elric will be under your command and I trust that your time in Ishval gave you the experience necessary to direct their abilities effectively.”

Roy’s throat felt dry. He coughed and said, “If I may ask, sir, will my primary role be as a colonel or a State Alchemist?”

A smile spread across the Führer’s face and he said, “Don’t worry, Colonel. None of your talents will go to waste.”

 

Ed walked through the pristine white halls of the second laboratory with Alphonse clanking beside him. He wasn’t looking forward to what waited at the end of the hall. He wanted to see Nina, of course—she was always so happy when he and Al visited—but even thinking about what her father did to her sickened him. He dreaded each visit.

When they reached Nina’s room, Ed took a breath. He never let Nina see how much her new form disturbed him. He and Al stepped inside. It looked like a cross between a little girl’s bedroom and a hospital room; against the wall was a bed with pink sheets and a few dolls propped against the pillows. An open toy chest sat at the end of the bed. It contained toys Ed recognized from Tucker’s old house—ones that belonged to Nina and ones that had belonged to Alexander. Ed cringed whenever he saw the dog toys. Pictures of butterflies and rainbows adorned the walls. At least the alchemists working with and taking care of Nina tried to make this place comfortable, but the whole space still felt so sterile and clinical.

A woman with deep wrinkles, hair that was still mostly light brown and a lab coat sat in a wooden chair braiding the hair of the chimera at her feet. The woman looked up when she heard Ed and Al’s footsteps.

“Nina,” she said, smiling. “Some friends have come to see you.”

Nina turned her head and jumped to her feet.

“Big brothers!” she said. Her voice was inhuman. Far too deep for the words of a little girl. She bounded over to greet them.

“Hey, Nina,” Ed said. He gave her the biggest grin he could and crouched down to her eye level. “How are you today?”

“Good,” she replied and wagged her tail. “Doctor Warren… braided… my hair and… big brothers are... here!”

“Your braids are very pretty, Nina,” Al told her, bending down to scratch her head.

“It’s nice that you boys visit her,” Doctor Warren said. “I try to keep her company when I can, but I’m always swamped with finding a way to get her back to normal as well as a few other research projects I’m assigned to. I worry she gets lonely.”

“And…how is your research going?” Al asked.

The doctor sighed. “No luck so far. The Sewing Life Alchemist did a thorough job.”

Ed nodded solemnly. According to Colonel Mustang, Doctor Warren, the Blood Alchemist, was Central’s leading expert in bioalchemy. Ed had hoped that after six months she and her team would have come up with some way to restore Nina to her natural self. Perhaps if he found Doctor Marcoh again…

No, Edward interrupted his own thought. A philosopher’s stone was too costly and he couldn’t risk the military getting its hands on Marcoh.

“Can I see… my daddy today?” Nina asked, looking hopefully up at Edward.

A knot formed in Ed’s stomach. No one knew for sure how much Nina understood of what had happened to her, but no one could bear to tell her that her father had transmuted her with her beloved dog.

“Not today,” Ed told her.

The jury had deliberated for about fifteen minutes before unanimously deciding Tucker’s guilt and sentencing him to eighty years in a Central City prison. Führer Bradley stripped him of his State Alchemist license shortly after.

Nina hung her head and made a horrible sound somewhere between a child’s sad moan and a dog’s whine. Alphonse shifted uncomfortably.

“When… will I get… to see my daddy?” she asked tearfully.

“Not for a while, sweetheart,” Doctor Warren said as she ran a hand down Nina’s neck. “Would you like to go outside?”

Nina nodded sadly.

“Would you like to bring a toy?”

She nodded again and walked over to the toy chest. She deliberated between a rag doll and a red ball and eventually picked up the red ball with her mouth.

“Is it strange that I hoped she would pick the doll?” Alphonse whispered.

“No,” Ed replied. “I did too.”

For the thousandth time, Ed wished he had put together the pieces about Tucker’s first chimera and Nina’s mother’s disappearance sooner.

Doctor Warren led them to a grassy square behind the Second Laboratory. A few benches offered resting spots beneath the shade of the smallish trees dotting the lawn. Tall poplars formed a border, shielding them from the view of the rest of the city.

Nina loved tag as much as ever, even if she did display Alexander’s affinity for fetch on occasion. She chased Ed and Alphonse around the grass and laughed when she caught Ed.

            “Tag!” she laughed and bolted away. “You’re it!”

“Oh no, he’s going to get us!” Al said, running away.

Ed couldn’t help but laugh too as he ran after them. Alphonse looked so silly pretending he was running his fastest and Nina was so excited. Living in a laboratory couldn’t be pleasant, but he hoped Nina was at least somewhat happy. Doctor Warren treated her like a little girl, not the monster Ed and Alphonse had worried she would. Nina seemed in good health. Maybe she could live a happy life after all.

Suddenly, Nina stopped running and lowered her nose to the base of a tree and sniffed up and down the trunk.

Well. Maybe someday.

After a few minutes, a man poked his head out the door.

“Doctor Warren?” he said. “First Lieutenant Hawkeye is here for Mr. Edward Elric.”

Ed stopped running. “The Lieutenant? What does she want?” At least she was alone, Ed thought. If the colonel had been with her, his presence would have been announced rather than hers, right?

“She says Colonel Mustang wants to speak with you. She’s here to pick you up.”

“Dammit,” Ed muttered.

“Are you…leaving?” Nina asked, looking between Ed and Al.

“I’ll stay, Brother,” Alphonse said. “Go see what the colonel wants.”

“Alright,” Ed said. “I promise I’ll come back soon, Nina.”

“Okay,” the chimera answered. “Hurry…so we…can keep…playing!”

Ed smiled. “I will. Don’t you worry.”

Nina wagged her tail and started running again. “You can’t catch…me, Big…Brother!”

“I bet I can!” Alphonse laughed and ran after her.

Lieutenant Hawkeye was waiting by the front doors.

“Hello, Edward,” she said warmly.

“Hey, Lieutenant. How did you know where to find me?”

She smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “You always visit Nina on Tuesdays when you’re in Central.”

“Oh,” Ed said, feeling dumb.

“It’s sweet of you, Edward.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

“Isn’t Alphonse coming?”

“He’s staying with Nina. We barely got here.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye nodded. “Sorry I interrupted your visit.”

“It’s ok. You have orders.”

In the car, Ed asked why Mustang wanted to see him.

“He didn’t say,” said the lieutenant.

“He must be pretty desperate for an excuse not to do his paperwork if he wants me to come to his office,” Ed joked.

Hawkeye chuckled. After a few minutes of silence, she asked, “How is Nina?”

“She seems like she’s doing okay. Doctor Warren and her team make sure she’s comfortable. I just wish she didn’t have to live in a lab.”

“I wish she didn't either.”

Hawkeye walked Ed to Colonel Mustang’s office. Ed wrinkled his nose as they walked through the Central Command Center. Ed and Al used to spend a lot of time in Central City because doing research was easier when they were close to so many resources, but after the colonel’s promotion to Central, Ed convinced Al to travel around the East and North areas with him.

His subordinates’ desks were empty but the colonel was at his desk twirling a pen in his fingers. He looked different; he had shadows under his eyes and he looked…thinner, perhaps? The changes were small, but Ed hadn’t seen him in over a month and they surprised him.

“Sir? Edward is here.”

Mustang looked up. “Ah. Thank you, Lieutenant. Have a seat, Fullmetal.”

Ed propped his feet up on one of the desks and leaned back in the chair.

The colonel frowned, but didn’t tell him to get his feet off the desk.

“Did you need anything else, sir?” the lieutenant asked.

“No. Thank you.”

She sat at her desk.

“Have you made any progress in getting your bodies back?” Mustang asked. No mocking tone laced his words and he sounded genuinely interested, which only made Ed suspicious.

“Not really,” he answered. “What’s it to you?”

“You might try being less flippant with your superiors,” Mustang said. “You won't be able to get away with it for much longer.”

“What do you mean? I only ever talk to you and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes.”

Mustang stared at Ed for a moment.

“What?” Ed demanded.

“Nothing.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Colonel? I want to get back to the second lab and finish up my visit with Nina.”

“I trust you know about Creta’s attack on Wellesley.”

“Yeah, it's all anyone on the train coming here could talk about. It sounded awful. But why are you talking to me about it?”

“Because they used alchemy in their attacks. Tomorrow morning, Führer Bradley will give an Executive Order to deploy all combat State Alchemists to fight Creta-Aerugo. The military is sending its dogs.”

“‘Combat State Alchemists?’ Wait, does that mean—”

“State Alchemists they call ‘human weapons?’ Yes. That includes you, Fullmetal.”

Ed hardly believed what he was hearing. He’d always known there was a chance the military would use him as a human weapon, but he never thought it would actually happen.

“They can’t send me, can they? I’m too young, aren’t I?” Ed asked.

“I don't think the Führer cares.”

Ed was stunned. “But he has a kid doesn't he?”

“That won’t soften his heart.”

Ed’s eyes widened and he sat forward.

“You gotta get me out of this, Colonel,” Ed said.

“I can’t. Not unless you give up your state license.”

The silver watch in Ed’s pocket suddenly felt much heavier. He pulled it out. He didn’t have to read the engraving inside to remember that giving it up wasn’t an option.

“I can’t do that,” he said. “I made a promise.”

“You should consider going back on that promise.”

“I can’t. Al and I have to keep moving forward. We can’t do that if I can’t access every piece of research the military has.”

Mustang laced his fingers together under his nose and leaned forward. He looked at Edward with a cold, pensive expression.

“I really don’t think you’re cut out for this, Fullmetal,” he said.

“You recruited me. You must have thought so at one point.”

“I didn’t recruit you because I thought you were a killer. I saw that you were a talented alchemist and thought you would benefit from the research privileges.”

“Last I checked, you just wanted to impress your superiors with the prodigy you found.”

“Almost half of our State Alchemists gave up their licenses either during or after the war in Ishval,” the colonel said, brushing Edward’s comment aside. “I suggest you follow their example.”

“Oh yeah?” Ed said. “And how come you didn’t give up your license if Ishval was so horrible?”

Mustang didn’t answer, but he didn’t break eye contact either.

“You won’t last, Elric,” he said slowly.

“I bet I will. Come on, you’ve seen me fight.”

“I have. Do you remember when you arranged a duel with me to settle a bet?” Mustang asked.

“Of course I do,” Ed scoffed. “You kicked my ass and gloated for a month.”

Ed remembered his surprise when Mustang pulled his left hand out of his pocket, revealing another transmutation circle. Later in the medical ward, Ed chided himself for being so stupid. Of course he lost. Of course Mustang had the most tricks up his sleeve. He wasn’t the youngest colonel in the military for nothing. But, dammit, the loss was still so embarrassing, no matter how many times Fuery and Havoc reminded Ed that “the colonel’s a war hero” or said, “Come on, he’s the Flame Alchemist, don’t beat yourself up about losing.”

“You could have won that fight,” Mustang continued. “You had an opening and instead of going for a kill shot, you slashed my glove.”

“Oh, and you’re upset that I didn’t stab you, is that it?” Ed snapped. “Because that sure was hard to resist.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. But it was a foolish move nonetheless, and resulted in some minor burns as I recall.” Again, Mustang didn't sound like he was making fun of Ed. Ed didn't see why not. It was so unlike him to pass up that opportunity.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember how the fight went down,” Ed said, rolling his eyes. “Why are you reminding me?”

“Have you ever taken a life, Fullmetal?”

Ed froze.

“No,” he answered.

“That’s what I thought. From what I’ve observed, you always disarm your opponents rather than kill them.”

“So I’m weak, is that what you’re saying?” Ed said, his anger rising. Here came the taunting at last.

“Hardly,” said the colonel. “Valuing human life isn’t weakness, but it can be dangerous. If you’d shown me mercy in a real fight, I would have burned you alive.”

Ed didn’t know what to say to that. Mustang had never actually given Ed a reason to fear him, but he didn’t doubt that the colonel was telling the truth.

“For once in your life, take my advice, Fullmetal,” Mustang said. “Give up your license.”

Ed glared at him. Mustang knew full-well that Ed’s State Alchemy privileges were all that would allow him to get Al’s body back. The colonel had said it himself; the research Ed could conduct as a State Alchemist would be impossible without his state certification. Keeping it was their only chance. How could Mustang even suggest he give it up?

“No, Colonel,” Ed said. “I’m keeping my license.”

“So you think you’re capable of killing, do you?”

“I won’t need to. Disarming and wounding have always worked for me before.”

Mustang frowned. “I’m not suggesting this lightly. Keeping your license will not end well for you. Take it from a State Alchemist with some experience.”

Ed scowled. “I don’t care. I’ll get Al’s body back without killing anybody.” With that, he turned and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **September 28, 2018 UPDATE**  
> When I first posted this chapter, I had Mustang commanding the 86th Regiment, but I decided that it would be better if I had him commanding a battalion (which is smaller than a regiment) for plot reasons and because nobody in their right mind would have someone as inexperienced as Mustang lead the number of men that a colonel normally would. It's a minor change and we're not that far in the story yet, are we?


	2. Mistakes We've Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up nine months late with Starbucks*  
> Thanks to my beta readers @lonepiper5758, @miraculous-stardust, @storyandasong and @littleslithe on Tumblr, and my friends Beth and Ashlee.  
> Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long. Don't count on me getting it posted before August, though. Thanks for being patient.

 Ed stomped down the front steps of the command center. He paced alongside the staircase with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Thanks for wasting my time, Mustang,” he muttered, kicking a pebble. “I’ll hand in my certification when I get Al’s body back. I don’t care if you send me to war.”

Al. Ed was going to have to tell Alphonse. Suddenly, the weight Ed felt in his chest increased. Alphonse would demand that Ed resign.

 _Good thing I’m the older brother, then_ , Ed thought. Still, even though Al couldn’t force Ed to resign, Ed had to break it to him somehow. 

Ed stopped pacing and held his bangs away from his face. He needed to think. On the side of the stone staircase hung horizontal Amestrian flags, fluttering slightly in the breeze. Only once had he pledged loyalty to that flag, and he hadn’t meant it. At the beginning of the written portion of the State Alchemist exam, he’d had to sign an oath that, should he pass the exam, he would use his alchemy as directed by the military. Even if he had known they’d want to use him as a human weapon four years later, Ed still would have signed it. All the strings attached to his State Alchemist license were worth the hope of getting Al’s body back.

Ed hoped Alphonse would still agree.

“Edward,” Lieutenant Hawkeye said from behind him, catching him off-guard. “The colonel asked me to drive you back.”

“Oh,” he said. “Thanks.”

Neither of them spoke for the entire walk down the covered staircase to the street. The lieutenant’s face was as stony as ever, and the car ride back to the second laboratory had none of the first trip’s warmth or friendly conversation. Just as well. Ed was still trying to think of what to say to Alphonse.

The shadow cast by the laboratory had lengthened since Ed had left. It now extended into the street, swallowing the lieutenant’s car as she parked along the curb. Ed thanked her for the ride and was about to get out when she told him to wait.

“You’re making a very foolish mistake,” she said. “You’re walking into something much worse than you imagine.”

“I can’t afford to give up my license,” Ed said with his brow furrowed. 

“You can’t afford to keep it.”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

Hawkeye held his gaze without blinking. She stared at him for several seconds before closing her eyes and sighing. 

“I know,” she whispered. “Tell Alphonse I said hello.”

Ed watched her drive away before going inside. He found Alphonse and Nina in Nina’s room. Doctor Warren was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re…back…big bro-ther!” Nina said and trotted over to Ed then buried her face in his knees.

“Sorry I took so long,” Ed said. He rubbed the top of Nina’s head. She seemed to like it when people did that.

“What did the colonel want?” Alphonse asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Ed answered.

“Okay,” Alphonse said, and picked up one of Nina’s toys.

As much as he wanted to give Nina his full attention, Ed’s mind was across town from Nina’s room, still stuck in the colonel’s office. Alphonse noticed, even if Nina didn’t. The helmet’s eyeholes lingered on Ed periodically, and Ed tried to ignore him. Eventually, Doctor Warren returned and announced that she needed to run a few tests with Nina.

“We better go, then,” Alphonse said. “Bye, Nina.”

Nina looked up at them. Her eyes were dog eyes, but they expressed as much pleading as when she had begged them to stay and play with her at her father’s house, and somehow more loneliness. 

“Will you…come… back… tomorrow?” she wondered.

Ed smiled and hoped she wouldn’t see through it. 

“Don’t you worry, we’ll be back,” he said, wishing he could add “soon.”

Nina pressed her nose into Edward’s hand, forcing him to pet the top of her head. He would never get used to that.

“Okay. Good…bye, big… bro-thers.”

Walking back to the hotel, Alphonse asked, “Are you gonna tell me what happened with Colonel Mustang now or are you still waiting?”

“Relax, I just didn’t want to talk about it in front of Nina,” Ed told him. “Let’s get back to our rooms.”

After a few minutes of walking, the Bernhardt Memorial Hotel came into view. The red bricks glowed warm in the light cast by the sinking sun, and the dark windows of the top two floors stood out against the white ornamental trim that adorned the building. Despite how starkly it contrasted against the gray buildings around it, it was boring and boxy, Ed thought. It didn’t even have any balconies. 

Hotel guests sat in the various chairs placed on the Xerxian rugs throughout the lobby. Men wearing suits and grim expressions leaned into their conversations, and some of them were leaning so intently that Ed thought they’d tip their chairs.  Several of them only stopped talking to stare at Alphonse as his armor clanked past on the white marble. Two men seemed not to notice the brothers as they passed. 

“Creta’s alchemy is nowhere near advanced enough,” Ed heard one of them say.

“Tell that to Wellesley,” the man’s friend responded. “Alchemy or not, the South City station was flattened.”

Their voices faded as Ed and Alphonse walked toward the elevator. Ed caught a whiff from the small restaurant on the main floor and his stomach grumbled. The hunger and exhaustion from a day of travel was starting to sink in. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Alphonse asked.

“Let's unpack first.”

A floor-length portrait of Führer Bradley greeted them when the elevator opened at the top floor. Ed couldn’t help but feel the eye of the painting follow him down the hall. _Stop being stupid_ , he told himself. _It’s just a painting._

Two four-poster beds sat at opposite corners, each next to a dark wooden dresser. Edward walked to the bed where had left his suitcase and began moving his clothes to the dresser. At the other bed, Al unloaded books onto the top of the dresser.

“So, what did the colonel want?” he asked.

Ed clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Remember all the talk we heard on the train about Creta attacking Wellesley?” he said. “And Aerugo bombing the train station in South City last month?”

“And how they’ve allied against Amestris? Yeah.”

“It must be worse than we thought, because Führer Bradley is ordering the State Alchemists to join the war.”

Alphonse gasped quietly from behind Edward.

“But they can’t send _you_ , can they?” he asked. “You’re not even old enough to enlist.”

“Mustang says I’m going unless I give up my license. He tried to talk me into resigning.”

“Is there another way out of it?”

Ed piled several thick volumes onto the dresser. “Not according to the colonel,” he said.

Ed continued unpacking in silence for a moment. His stomach grumbled again. Now that he was talking to Alphonse, Ed still didn’t regret his decision, but the weight of it was more tangible now and he worried how Alphonse would react. 

“What are you going to do, Brother?” Alphonse asked quietly.

Ed turned around. Alphonse was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward slightly with his back straight.

“I’m staying a State Alchemist.” 

For several seconds, Alphonse sat motionless. The faint glow of the armor’s eyeholes offered no emotion for Ed to gauge his brother's reaction. What he was ready to give to see Alphonse smile or even cry.

“Are you sure?” Alphonse asked. 

“I am.”

“But you’re going to _war_. We never planned on that.”

“I never planned on you losing your body either.”

“You’ll have to kill people if you go. That’s why we didn’t want to use the philosopher’s stone after all. Because we didn’t want to kill people.”

Ed gritted his teeth. “This is different.”

“How?”

“I can wound or disarm people and maybe still make it out okay. I’m not killing anybody unless I absolutely have to.”

Alphonse’s helmet tilted downward. 

“I think that’s very foolish of you, Brother.“

“Oh, do you?”

“I do. I think you should listen to the colonel. He probably knows what he’s talking about.”

“So what if he does?”

“He must have had a reason for suggesting that you resign, Brother.”

Ed’s stomach growled and he sat on his bed. “He just doesn’t understand how important it is that I get your body back.”

“Is getting my body back—a mistake that _we_ made—worth killing people?”

“I’m telling you, this isn’t the same thing as making a philosopher’s stone! I’ll be fighting people who joined an army knowing they might die!”

“So you _are_ ready to kill someone if you have to?”

“I never said that.”

Alphonse balled his fists and looked away.

“You are such an idiot,” he said.

“Maybe I am,” Edward said. “But I'm keeping my state certification and I'm gonna keep looking for ways to get your body back once the war is over.”

“I don't want it back if this is what it takes.”

“The last four years have been a complete waste of time, then!” Ed said. “Now you're being the idiot.” 

Al turned his eyeless gaze back to Ed.

“And what if _you_ die, Brother?” he asked.

Ed clenched his teeth. He recalled lying in the dirt, humiliated and with painful burns blistering on his chin and left arm, watching Mustang walk away with no more than a ruined glove.

“I'm not going to die,” he said. “I promise. I won’t leave you alone like that.” He tasted the naïvety of the vow even as he said it.

“You really think you can keep that promise?” Alphonse asked.

“Yeah.” Ed scowled.

“Fine. You’d better.”

Ed’s stomach broke the silence that had fallen between them. “I’m going to get something to eat,” he said. He let the door shut a little harder than normal. He listened for it to open and for Alphonse to come after him, but no clanking followed him down the hall.

 

Alphonse wasn’t in the room when Edward awoke the next morning. Ed stretched and got dressed. After scanning the room, he couldn’t find a note saying where his brother had gone off to. Just as he put his hand on the doorknob to go look for Alphonse, the door opened.

“The concierge called,” Alphonse said. “You slept through it.”

“What did he want?” Ed asked, stepping aside to let Alphonse in.

“A letter came for you.” Al held out an envelope. Ed took it. 

“Looks like it’s from the Office of the Führer,” he said. The Führer’s seal—a dragon overlaying a six-pointed star—was impressed into the red wax holding the envelope closed. His heart beat rapidly as he opened it and read aloud.

“You are hereby notified that pursuant to Executive Order #374, you are called to serve in the Amestrian State Military by the State Alchemy Office and His Excellency, Führer King Bradley,” he read. “You are required to appear for a physical examination before the State Alchemy Offices (Central Branch) at 8AM on 4th September, 1914. Failure to do so is punishable by up to five years’ imprisonment and the immediate and permanent revocation of your State Alchemy license.”

“Harsh,” Alphonse said.

“No kidding.”

“I wonder if they’ll turn you away because of your automail.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Ed told him. “Plenty of soldiers have automail. Besides, they knew about my automail when I took the exam, so I doubt they’ll have a problem with it now.”

Alphonse sighed. “I guess you’re right. 

 

Two days later, Ed went alone to the Command Center. He’d asked Alphonse if he wanted to come, but Alphonse had told him he was going to visit Nina again.

“Do you want me to tell her?” he’d asked.

Ed had paused. He’d completely forgotten that Nina would likely miss her other big brother.

“Just tell her that I’ll be gone for a while, but I’ll be back,” he’d replied. 

Gazing up at the Command Center, Ed stuck his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the silver watch. _Don’t forget._ He inhaled and held the air in his lungs for a few seconds before releasing it. In the distance, the clocktower chimed eight o’ clock. He walked up the steps.

Inside the command center, a sign directed State Alchemists to the east wing. Ed followed it, and found four men sitting on a bench outside a row of closed doors.

 “Are you guys State Alchemists?” Ed asked them. One nodded, and Ed sat next to him. Ten minutes later, one of the doors opened and a narrow-shouldered man walked out. A doctor stood in the doorway and read from a clip board.

“Edward Elric?” he said, looking up 

“That’s me.”

He looked at Ed, then back at his clipboard. 

“It says here that you’re fifteen.”

“I am. So?”

The doctor shrugged. “Nothing. Just surprising, that’s all. Come in and have a seat.” Ed went inside and hoisted himself onto the examination table.

After nearly two hours of the doctor measuring Ed’s height, weight, flexibility, reflexes, vision, hearing, heart and lungs, the doctor said, “Well, you don't meet the height requirement, but you're in good health. You pass.” 

“You saying I'm too short?” Ed accused as he put his shirt back on.

“For a regular soldier. But they'll take State Alchemists no matter what size. They only care about your alchemy.”

Ed grumbled under his breath, “Too short my ass.” He slid his arms through his coat sleeves and asked, “Is there anything else I need to do here?”

“You should pick up your uniform if you haven’t already. Go down to the southeast corner of the basement and let them know you’re a State Alchemist and they’ll give you what you need.”

“Thanks.”

“Also, if you feel like you need a tune-up, I suggest you pay your mechanic a visit,” the doctor added. “You don’t want anything going wrong with your automail in battle.”

His comment made Ed pause. He frequently broke his automail while fighting, and traveling two days or more to Resembool so Winry could fix it was inconvenient at best. He hadn’t considered the complications automail could present on the warfront. Could ruined automail get him out of fighting?

“What if my automail gets damaged out there?” he asked.

“There are always several automail mechanics working in the field hospitals. If the damage is minor to moderate, they usually do a decent job repairing it. Your personal mechanic in their own workshop with all their supplies would be better, of course, but the field mechanics will keep you in fighting shape. Automailed soldiers whose prosthetics are damaged to the point that they need extensive repairs or a replacement are often sent home to their personal mechanics.”

“Good to know.”

“I don't recommend breaking it on purpose like some soldiers do,” the doctor continued. “State Alchemists are too valuable to the military. You’ll probably be sent to the nearest city where someone can make you a new limb and get you back to the front as quickly as possible.”

 _Winry’s gonna lose her mind if someone else tinkers with my automail_ , Ed thought. _Just another reason to be careful._  

 

The basement was much quieter than the rest of the command center. Only a few others walked along the pale gray halls, none of whom paid Edward any attention. In the the southeast corner, he found a dozen or so soldiers lined up in front of a counter with two men standing behind it.  One of the men behind the counter handed a stack of folded uniforms to the man at the front of the line.

Ed joined the line, and when he got up to the counter, he held up his pocket watch.

“I need to pick up my uniform,” he said.

“What size?” the attendant asked. 

“An e-extra small?” Ed’s face grew hot.

The man turned and looked through the uniforms hanging in the small room behind him.

“You’re not a lieutenant colonel, are you?” he asked.

“No, I’m a…major.” Right. Ed wasn’t just a soldier. He was an officer.

The attendant pulled a set of pants and a jacket off of a hanger. As he handed them to Ed, the four gold stripes flanking the lone gold star on the shoulder seemed to burn against the dark blue.

“Put the jacket on and hold the pants up,” he instructed. To Ed’s dismay, the sleeves extended to the tips of his fingers and the pants went past his toes.

“Wow,” the man said with raised eyebrows. “You’re the smallest soldier I’ve ever equipped.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SMALL?”

The man blinked and replied calmly, “You.”

Ed stopped, unsure how to respond. No one had ever said that before. He took a few deep breaths, trying unsuccessfully not to sound angry.

“Do you have anything smaller?” Ed asked, grateful that no one had gotten behind him in line.

“I’m afraid not. You’ll have to take it to Adeline to have it altered. She’s in room 038.”

The man gave Ed the rest of his uniform: another set of pants and a jacket, one medium-weight hooded white coat, a black fur-lined winter coat, and a pair of hobnailed jackboots. 

“If the boots are too big,” he said, “I’m afraid you’ll just have to wear extra socks.”

“Thanks a lot,” Ed grumbled and set off to room 038.

 

 He scanned the plaques next to each doorway, irritated and weighed down by all he was carrying. At last, he found room 038 with its door open. Ed peered into the room. Major Armstrong stood with his arms extended to the sides as a tall young woman with square shoulders and large round glasses measured around his chest. Edward paused and considered coming back later, but before he could walk away, the major boomed, “Edward Elric!” and suddenly the enormous man’s arms were wrapped so tightly around Ed that his vision blurred. “It’s been so long since you’ve been to Central!”

“Major Armstrong!” the woman exclaimed. “How am I supposed to finish mending your uniform if you keep having these outbursts?”

“I was merely—“

“Just put me down, Major!” Ed wheezed, flailing his legs.

Armstrong let him drop to the ground. “It’s just so good to see you again, Edward.”

“Good to see you too, Major,” Ed lied, getting to his feet.

“Major Armstrong, yours isn't the only uniform I need to mend today,” the woman said with a scowl. Her expression and rigid posture made her appear as formidable as if she had Armstrong’s improbable height. “Please let me finish getting your measurements.”

Armstrong apologized and walked back to where he had been standing and held his arms out again. The seamstress resumed measuring and Edward wondered if he should speak up.

“Can I help you?” the seamstress said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Are you Adeline?” he asked. “I was told to come here to get my uniform adjusted.”

“I’m one of her assistants. Adeline is busy with General Clemin.”

“Should I come back later?”

“No, no, I’ll see to you now,” said a plump woman with short gray hair. She appeared from a side room. A man with his face set in a sneer walked behind her holding a folded military jacket. Turning to him, she said, “Have a good day, General. Let me know if it comes unstitched again.”

General Clemin grunted a thank you and walked out.

She let out a “humph” and addressed Ed. “What do you need, young man?”

“I need mine shortened,” Ed admitted, his face getting hot again. 

The woman—Adeline, he assumed—took one of the uniforms from him and held it up.

“Yours, huh?” she said. A flicker of sadness appeared in her eyes, but she quickly brightened and said, “You must be the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

“Yeah, I am.” Ed grinned. “I'm Edward Elric.” 

“I suppose you’re high-priority, then. Let’s get you fitted so you’re ready for Creta and Aerugo.”

“They’re sending you as well?” Armstrong said in disbelief. 

“I'm a State Alchemist, aren’t I?” Ed said.

“Yes, but you’re underage!” he stammered.

“I guess Führer Bradley doesn’t care.”

Major Armstrong’s mustache twitched and redness spread across his face and scalp.

“Well, Major Elric, I'll need you to try on the pants so I can see how much to shorten them.” Adeline glanced sideways at Armstrong, probably worried that the gargantuan man would explode.

She looked away while Ed changed. The uniform pants pooled around his ankles and the waist cape touched the floor. To his relief, Adeline made no comment. She worked in silence for several minutes before a voice interrupted her.

“You should have requested the smallest size.”

Colonel Mustang stood in the doorway, holding several uniforms and wearing the ugliest smirk Ed had ever seen.

“Don't call me small,” Ed snapped.

“I called the uniform small, not you,” Mustang said. “Better watch that temper, Fullmetal. Not all of your superiors are as tolerant as I am.”

“They're not as annoying either.”

Mustang laughed.

Adeline straightened and stuck a pin back in the pincushion on her wrist.

“What can I do for you, Colonel Mustang?” the seamstress asked, sounding impatient.

“I need mine taken in a little,” Mustang said, looking sideways at Edward and trying not to smile. “But the length is fine.”

“Lost some weight, have you?” Adeline said, taking the folds of blue fabric from him.

“Just a little.” Mustang couldn't hide his amusement as he watched Ed fume silently. 

“Can you come back later? I still have to get Major Elric and a few others fitted this morning and my assistants are busy.”

Mustang didn’t answer. His gaze had shifted to the hems of Edward’s pants and his smile had fallen a little.

“Colonel? Did you hear me?”

He blinked and looked at Adeline. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked if you could come back later. We’re a little swamped at the moment.”

“Certainly. I'll come back this afternoon.” Mustang gave one more chuckle aimed at Edward and walked out.

Adeline rolled her eyes and put Mustang’s uniforms on a table before bending down to continue adjusting the hem of Edward’s pants. 

“I don’t mind him getting sent to the front,” she muttered under her breath. “Seems like all he's done since they transferred him here is flirt with every woman in the command center under forty.”

 _Sounds about right._ Ed glared at the doorway. _Obnoxious, useless bastard._

“How can he laugh?” A growl underscored Armstrong’s question. “There is nothing funny about sending a child to war.”

“I'm not a child,” Ed retorted.

“Major Elric, my son is older than you are,” Adeline interjected. “Believe me, you are a child.”

Ed huffed but didn't talk back. Adeline got an odd look on her face and looked him in the eye before saying, “When I heard they'd let a twelve-year-old boy join the State Alchemy program, it sickened me. I hoped I'd never have to sew a uniform for him. Promise me you won't be buried in it.”

 


	3. Ready or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here 'tis. Four months between the last chapter is better than nine months, right? 
> 
> A quick note: while Bradley and the senior staff definitely know Ed and Al attempted human transmutation in canon, that's only because of the larger conspiracy with Father and all that. Bradley realized Ed had opened the portal when Ed transmuted without a circle during his State Alchemist exam. At some point in volume 2 of the manga when they first meet Shou Tucker, Mustang explicitly states that he's lying to his superiors about how Ed lost his limbs. In this AU, no one in the military knows Ed and Al committed the taboo aside from Mustang, Hawkeye, the rest of Team Mustang, Hughes, and possibly Armstrong.
> 
> That wasn't very quick. Sorry.

The hotel lobby was nearly empty when Ed returned. He shifted his sack of uniforms to his automail hand and flexed his sore fingers.  

To Ed's surprise, Al stood at the front desk. As Ed got closer, he noticed the phone in Al's hand and heard his brother say, "Winry, will you please calm down?"

"Winry?" Ed said. 

Al startled and turned around.

"She wants to talk to you," he said and shoved the phone at Ed, who scowled in return. Ed took a breath before speaking.

"Hey, Win--"

"When were you planning on telling me that you were getting sent to war?" Winry's voice pierced Ed's eardrum. "Or were you content with letting me hear about it on the radio?"

"Would you quit overreacting?" Ed said. "I only found out yesterday

"Overreacting? Maybe you're underreacting!"

Ed groaned and let his forehead hit the counter. Al quietly apologized to the receptionist.

"Is this the only reason you called?" Ed asked.

"Yes. You can't go."

"Oh yeah? Says who?"

"Says your automail mechanic! You haven't had a tune-up in eight months and I know you never do your maintenance!"

"Winry, I can't get out of this. The Führer himself ordered the State Alchemists to the front."

"Fine," she huffed. "But you need to come home and let me look at your automail. What if it breaks?"

"There are mechanics in all the field hospitals. I'm sure they can do a good enough job fixing me."

"So you'd rather someone else work on your automail, is that it?"

"No, Winry, that's not what I meant at all!" Ed pulled on his bangs. "I just meant that you don't need to worry about me."

"If you don't want me to worry, then tell them you don't want to be a State Alchemist anymore."

Ed sighed. He was tired of justifying his decision.

"You know I can't do that," he said. "Not if I want to help Alphonse."

"How will you get his body back if you get killed?"

Ed thought for a moment. 

"People need me, Winry," he said. "The Führer wouldn't call for State Alchemists if it wasn't absolutely necessary." That was true, he supposed, but it still felt like a lie.

"Don't lie to me, Ed! You don't want to go and you know it."

"Well I'm going no matter what, so you might as well stop crying about it!"

"Why do you always have to be such a jerk?" Winry yelled and hung up.

Ed put the handset down and turned back to Al.

"That was a nice way to say goodbye to her," Al said.

"Shut up. It's not my fault she gets so emotional."

As the two boys walked up to their room, Ed thought about what shitty last words those would be, too.

 

 

Ed's stomach shriveled as he stood on the train platform. Other travelers milled about, many of them wearing blue wool uniforms like the one Ed had donned earlier that morning. He read the large clock mounted to the wall. The train would leave soon. Letting out the breath he'd been holding, Ed looked up at Alphonse.

"I guess this is it for now," he said. "I don't know when I'll see you again."

That was another difference between State Alchemists and regular soldiers, Ed had learned: soldiers were deployed for two years before being sent home for nine months, whereas State Alchemists fought for as long as the Führer deemed necessary.

Alphonse was silent for a few seconds before saying, "I want to come with you."

"Are you crazy?" Ed took a step back. "There's no way I'd let you do something this dangerous!"

"You're going," Alphonse said.

"Yeah, but I'm not a civilian. Or an empty suit of armor. Think they'd let me keep my license if they knew we tried human transmutation?"

Alphonse sighed and looked at his feet. "You're right." He looked back at Edward and said, "Be careful, Brother."

"Hey, I will be. Don't worry about me. Focus on researching how to get our bodies back."

Alphonse nodded slowly.

"Do you know where you're going to start looking?" Ed asked.

"I was going to ask Doctor Warren if she had any ideas."

"Good plan."

More silence. _This might be the last time I ever see him._ Ed couldn't turn away from that reality, as much as he wanted to.

"Be safe," Alphonse said, "even if that means you have to kill people. I'll forgive you if you do."

Ed hesitated before nodding. While getting ready that morning, he'd repeated "don't forget" over and over until he could almost smell the burning timbers of his childhood home and he could almost see the red orange flames reflecting off of Alphonse's armor.  

The train whistled, urging the passengers to finish boarding. Ed hoisted his pack onto his shoulders and turned toward the train, but Al wrapped him into a tight hug.

"Write to me," he said. "So I know you're okay."

"Alright, Al. I will. Make sure you keep me updated on your research. Let me know how Nina's doing, too."

Alphonse loosened his hold and Ed turned back to face him. 

"Goodbye, Brother." Alphonse raised a hand in farewell.

Ed's throat had grown unexpectedly tight. "I'll see you later, Al."

 

 

Roy sat on a bench, flicking the brass cigarette lighter on and off. Seeing the pale flame comforted him.

"Here," his aunt had said last night as she slid it across the bar. "In case your gloves get wet. That better not come back to me in a box of your personal effects."

He'd only smiled and said, "I'd hate to disappoint you, Madam."

Roy put the lighter away and looked around. Soldiers wearing white coats milled about, bidding farewell to their families as they boarded the train that would take them to Dublith. Some distance away, Roy saw Alphonse Elric's helmet and shoulders sticking out above the crowd. So nothing had transpired in the last two weeks to keep Fullmetal from coming. So be it. Roy wanted to think that his abilities as a commander or Ed's skill as an alchemist would guarantee that the two boys would see each other again, but on the battlefield, death came for whomever it liked.

The train whistled. Roy stood and was about to get on when he heard someone calling him. Gracia Hughes jogged toward him, red-faced and with Elicia in her arms.

"Gracia? What are you doing here?" 

She breathed hard for a few seconds and hoisted her daughter higher on her hip before saying, "I wanted to tell you goodbye." She dropped her gaze momentarily, and then looked back up at him with a trembling smile. "Everyone deserves to know that someone hopes they make it home safely, don't you think?" 

Elicia squirmed and Gracia set her on the ground, keeping hold of her hand. 

"Of course," Roy said, returning the smile. "Thank you for thinking of me." He'd grown to like Gracia very much over the years; she had returned her husband's affection with equal (if subtler) enthusiasm. And no one had made Maes Hughes happier, save maybe Elicia. Roy felt a little guilty that he had once thought his friend could do better.

"It's just that I would have seen Maes off if..." Gracia paused, swallowed, and blinked the moisture out of her eyes. "I would have seen Maes off if he were going with you."

 _He wouldn't have been going anyway,_ Roy almost said. _He had a nice, safe job in the Investigations Office. He would have been home in time for dinner tonight._

Roy had to blink the moisture out of his eyes too. 

Elicia pulled on her mother's dress and whined, "Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Just a few more minutes sweetie. Then we'll go home and eat lunch." Gracia looked back at Roy and told him, "I have something for you." She reached into the pocket of her cardigan, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. It was a photograph of Hughes and himself when they had graduated from the military academy ten years earlier. In it, Hughes beamed and tilted his hat next to Roy, who looked positively austere. Roy couldn't remember if it was supposed to be a serious picture or not.

"I found that yesterday when I was cleaning out--when I was cleaning," Gracia explained. "Maes would have wanted you to have it. You meant so much to him."

For over a month, Roy had been drowning in Hughes' death, and this photograph dragged him deeper under the water. He hadn't thought it possible to miss someone this much.

"Thank you," he said through a tight throat before tucking the photograph into his breast pocket and glancing at the other soldiers boarding the train. "Forgive me, but I need to get going."

Gracia nodded. "Of course. Be careful, Roy."

"I will. Take care."

Gracia prompted Elicia to say goodbye as well, and the toddler waved and said, "Bye-bye!"

 _Isn't my daughter cute?_ Roy imagined Hughes gushing. Roy smiled and waved back before getting on the train.

_Yes, Hughes. She is._

  

 

Ed walked along the train car, looking for an open seat. Several soldiers looked away as he passed, whispering to their neighbors. He clenched his jaw and kept walking.

"Edward!"

Ed cringed inwardly when he heard Major Armstrong calling him. The major was sitting across from two men: one with a long gray mustache, the other with white-blond hair and the palest blue eyes Ed had ever seen. Armstrong beckoned him over and gestured to the small space next to him. Ed glanced around and saw no other empty spots nearby, so he had to sit with one leg extending into the aisle. He looked over to see if Armstrong could move over, but the major’s shoulder was pressed against the window as it was.

"You the Fullmetal Alchemist?" the man with the pale eyes asked.

Ed nodded. The man leaned forward and tilted his head.

"Did you really take the exam when you were only twelve?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Impressive." He extended a hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Major Elric. I'm James Ambrose, the Silencing Alchemist."

"Nice to meet you," Ed said, shaking Ambrose's hand and wondering what "silencing" alchemy was.

The man with the gray mustache coughed and shifted in his seat, and Ed noticed the man's peg leg as he did so. His arms were folded, but Ed glimpsed transmutation circles on his fingertips. 

"This is Giolio Comanche, the Silver Alchemist," Armstrong introduced.

"The Silver Alchemist?" Ed questioned. "That sounds familiar for some reason..."

Ambrose half-smiled. "Probably because he's one of the big names from the Ishvalan Conflict."

"I would have killed more of those Ishvalan dogs if they hadn't shot my leg off," Comanche snarled, stomping his wooden leg. "In a few more months, I would have surpassed even the Red Lotus Alchemist's record."

"Sure you would have," Ambrose said, laughing lightly.

Perhaps the "dogs of the military" moniker was deserved. Ed looked uneasily up at Major Armstrong. The major scowled at his thick hands clamped together in his lap. Ed had never heard him boast about his military service, and Ed wondered if that was unusual. 

"You'd think that with our status we wouldn't have to share tents," Ambrose grumbled, and Ed looked back at him, trying to keep the discomfort out of his expression. "At least I'm paired with Vauclain. He takes up little space."

At that, Armstrong brightened.

"And you're sharing a tent with me, Edward!" he boomed.

"Do I have to?" Ed said, but Armstrong didn't hear him. However, as much as Armstrong irritated Ed, he would likely make a better tent mate than Ambrose or Comanche. 

Footsteps came down the car and Ed grimaced when he saw who approached. Colonel Mustang walked past, looking no better than he had two weeks earlier. He still had bags under his eyes and Ed recalled him asking Adeline to take his uniforms in.

"Wow," Ed chuckled once the colonel was out of sight. "Someone should have Hughes cheer him up. He looks like shit."

Armstrong and Ambrose stared at Ed. Comanche continued to gaze out the window.

"What?" Ed asked.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes was killed in South City," Armstrong said softly. 

Armstrong may as well have crushed Ed's ribcage. 

"W-what? He was there during the bombing?"

Armstrong nodded. "I'm sorry. I thought you had heard." 

Ed slumped back in his seat. Since finding out that he would have to fulfill his military duties, he hadn't thought about Hughes. He hadn't even stopped by the Investigations Office to say goodbye. He wanted to disappear into his seat.

"I always liked Hughes," Ambrose said softly. "Nice man."

None of them spoke for the remainder of the ride, or if they did, Ed tuned them out. Hughes couldn't be dead. He worked mainly in Central. What on earth was he doing in South City? And how were Gracia and Elicia? Ed hadn't gone with Alphonse to visit them, either. They'd had two whole weeks before Ed shipped out and they couldn't even visit the Hughes family once? 

Ed folded his arms and turned toward the aisle, careful not to rest his back against Armstrong. Eventually, the gentle swaying of the train and it's rhythmic clacking as it glided through the countryside calmed his mind enough that he fell asleep. He awoke to Armstrong prodding him in the shoulder.

"We're here," the major said. Ed rubbed his eyes and turned around. The lights inside the train had come on and the smell of rain filled Ed's nostrils. Looking out the window, the ground shone wet under the station lights. Ambrose and Comanche were already retrieving their packs from the overhead compartment.

"Here you go," Armstrong said as he lifted down Edward's gear as though it weighed little more than a jacket. 

"Thanks."

Outside, the moon glowed behind the clouds and a cold breeze made Ed's waist-cape flap against his leg. An officer directed them toward an open field behind the train station where masses of soldiers were organizing themselves into rectangular groups.

"Where do we go?" Ed asked Armstrong. Armstrong squinted through the darkness, searching for an open area.

"What company do you lead?" he asked Edward.

"My papers said Ngetsœ." 

"Ngetsœ and Mœhu companies!" the major barked. "Follow me!" Ed followed, and saw dozens of soldiers doing the same when he looked back. Armstrong stopped and ordered his company to get in ranks behind him.

"Well? Go over there and have your men line up." Armstrong gestured to his left.

 _I'm not ready even for this._ Ed walked to where Armstrong had indicated and ordered the remaining men to line up behind him. A few obeyed immediately, but most looked at each other in confusion.

"Where's Major Elric?" a square-shaped man in front asked.

"I'm Major Elric!"

Several men laughed.

"You can't be," the man said. "You're a kid."

Before Ed could respond, Colonel Mustang approached and the men met him with a salute. Armstrong coughed, urging Ed to do the same. Aside from a few times when Ed was feeling particularly sarcastic, tonight was the first time he had saluted the colonel.

Mustang glanced at the square man's epaulette and asked, "What's your name, Corporal?"

"Perrault, sir."

"Corporal Perrault," Mustang said. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought I overheard you disrespecting your commanding officer."

Although Perrault was at least four inches taller than Mustang, he seemed to shrink under the colonel's glare.

"I didn't mean to, sir," he said. "It won't happen again."

"That's what I want to hear, Corporal. I expect all of you to afford Major Elric the same respect and obedience that you would if he were your own age."

A murmur of "Yes, sir" arose from the group and they all filed in behind Ed.

Mustang walked to where he could face the entire group, and was joined shortly by Lieutenant Hawkeye. Seeing her comforted Ed. Once everyone was in their places, the colonel ordered them to quiet down. He then informed them that the rest of the brigade was waiting six kilometers south of Dublith, and that they would be walking there.

"Tonight?" Ed accidentally said aloud.

"Yes, Fullmetal. Tonight."

Ed felt the heat rise up his neck and into his face. 

Mustang hid a smile. "We best get moving. I want to get there before midnight."

A train horn sounded in the distance and a raindrop landed on Ed's nose. The colonel and the lieutenant stood in place, watching the men march past. As Ed passed, Mustang walked alongside him, followed by Hawkeye.

"In future," Mustang said, "keep your complaints quiet."

"Was I being disrespectful?" Ed grumbled.

"Slightly. Besides, your men will respect you more if you don't whine about physical discomfort."

"I didn't whine."

"You will."

Ed scowled at him.

"The train couldn't take us any farther?" he asked, despite Mustang's dig. "Or do you just like torturing people?"

"The Aerugonian army is closing in on Balke," he said. "Führer Bradley won't let any trains farther south than Dublith."

"Then where the hell are we going?"

Lightning splintered the sky and thunder bellowed against the clouds. The rain fell in heavier and more numerous drops, causing Ed to squint as they splashed against his cheeks.

"Just a bit north of Awbeziz," the colonel answered, frowning at the sky. "We have troops near Balke, but we're their reinforcements. We should arrive in Balke in about two days."

Wind rushed up behind Ed's coat, making him shiver. When it died down, Hawkeye opened an umbrella and held it over Mustang and herself.

"We'll be fighting Aerugonians in two days?" Ed asked.

Mustang looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"If we don't come across them sooner," he said. "What, did you expect time to adjust?"

Ed opened his mouth to respond, but the colonel and the lieutenant were already walking to the front of the group. Ed shivered again, though the wind had quieted for the moment. Part of him wanted to go back to when Mustang had warned him about the executive order and hand over his watch right then, but the other part of him knew that staying in the State Alchemy Program was the right choice. He'd find a way to restore Al's body once this was all over.

Another bolt of lightning filled the sky, turning the world a blinding white for less than a second.

He'd get Al's body back, he promised himself, no matter what it took.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @storyandasong and @littleslithe on Tumblr for reviewing this for me, and thanks to my irl friends Ashlee, Beth, and Tasha for all of their feedback :)


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